I reckon if old Mr. Jonathan was to ride
along these roads to-day thar wouldn't be anybody, unless it was a
nigger, to open the gate for him."
"You bet there wouldn't!" exclaimed Abel with fervour.
Abner, walking at Sarah's side, wore the unnerved and anxious expression
of a man who is conscious that he is wearing his Sunday suit when it has
grown too small to contain him. His agony was so evident that Blossom,
observing it in the midst of her sentimental disturbances, remarked
affectionately that he looked as if he "were tired to death."
"I've got the church fidgets in my legs," he said. "I reckon I'll get
into my everyday suit an' finish that piece of ploughin'. Are you goin'
back to the mill, Abel?"
"No, I've shut down for the day," Abel replied. The funeral had turned
his mind into its Sunday habit of thought and he was determined that his
present state of misery should extend reverently until the evening. From
some instinct, which he did not attempt to explain, it appeared more
respectful to Reuben to sit idle for the rest of the day than to follow
Abner's example and go out and finish his work.
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